


Go Forward, Do Not Stray

by DearHeartx



Series: Fictober 2018 [25]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:09:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearHeartx/pseuds/DearHeartx
Summary: The night before the big battle with Corypheus
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Fictober 2018 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802731





	Go Forward, Do Not Stray

Dawn. Before dawn. Dawn. The words kept echoing in her head, an uncomfortable reminder that the few precious moments left of her life were dwindling before her very eyes. She should've listened to Solas—he'd warned her time and time again that Morrigan was only working with the Inquisition for her own benefit. But no, she'd thought he was being dramatic. She let Morrigan drink from the Well of Sorrows and as soon as they were safe in Skyhold, the sorceress shifted into a raven and flew toward the horizon. The knowledge held within Well had been their last hope; without that knowledge, they had no chance of beating Corypheus and his horde of demons. They were already far outnumbered and now, without the knowledge of the Evanuris, they were outwitted.

Dawn. That was what Leliana’s scout had told her between half-panicked breaths. The horde had made it to Frostback Pass—they were mere hours from the Skyhold walls.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Dorian said as he shook one of the two large bottles he was holding, the liquid sloshing loudly against the glass.

“No. I need to keep a straight head.” Her answer was quick and firm, but Dorian chuckled at her. 

“Elena, darling, do you really think we'll be here—” he stopped with his train of thought when he saw the pinched, angry look on her face. “I only mean a half a cup won't hurt anybody.” He grabbed a large goblet off the feasting table and returned to her beside the roaring fire.

She sighed, the words echoing in her head again. “Fine, a half a cup. But that's all! Just enough to get rid of this headache.”

But Dorian wasn't listening. He'd already poured the wine until the deep red liquid ran over the sides of the goblet. 

“Dorian!”

“What?! It was an accident!” He laughed, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “Come on, don't make me drink alone.” He pulled a wooden chair closer to the fire and sat down, his expression quickly sobering. “All I want to do is spend my last few hours gossiping with my best friend. Can we do that?” There was a long pause as Elena stared at the stone floor. “Plus, if I go anywhere else, they'll give me a job to do and it's bloody cold out there.”

Elena looked up and let her eyes meet Dorian's. Immediately she felt the sting of emotion behind them. “Sure, lets gossip. Who's up first?” She sniffed back the threatening tears as she pulled up her own seat and took a gulp of the wine. It tasted like sweet berries on her tongue but burned down her throat and in her belly. The sensation was a blissful distraction. She took another swallow.

“I was rather hoping we could talk about you and our esteemed Commander,” Dorian said, his eyebrows wriggling.

Elena should’ve known better. He’d been trying to get the dirty details out of her for weeks now. Dorian had caught her barefoot, last night’s dirty knickers crumpled in her hand, trying to sneak into her quarter’s before sunrise. It had been the night they returned from Halamshiral. Her rendezvous with Cullen hadn’t been planned, but her jealous fuse had been lit watching all those pretty, young things prance and preen in front of him. She still wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do, but it certainly wasn’t throw her against his desk for the better part of the evening.

“See I knew it!” Dorian said, pointing at her wildly and spilling his wine. “You can’t even think about it without smiling!”

Before Dorian could ask for any unseemly details, the Great Hall’s door swung open, a blast of cold air and swirls of snow came rushing in. The flame guttered and Dorian swore, “Hey! Shut the door! The Inquisitor is losing heat over here! She's very sensitive you know!”

Elena rolled her eyes, but was thankful none the less when the door slammed shut. The Iron Bull was weighted down with half a dozen swords, firewood stacked so high he couldn't see where he was going, and daggers packed away in every pocket of his large trousers. 

“Thought you might need these,” he grunted and dropped everything unceremoniously next to the hearth.

Dawn.

“Yes. Thank you, Bull.” Elena drained the rest of her goblet and let Dorian pour her another. “How are you two, then?”

Dorian’s face screwed up tight, but Bull interrupted before he could launch into whatever tirade he had prepared. “We’re good.” The simple, adoring look on Bull’s face as he looked across the shadows at Dorian warmed Elena more than the fire ever could. “Any regrets, Kadan?”

Immediately, Dorian’s tension eased. “You know I don’t, Amatus.”

The door banged open, wind driving in snow and hail, but it only took a moment before Blackwall and Sera were able to slam it shut again. “My sincerest apologies, Inquisitor.” He nodded to the others.

“How’s it looking out there?” Dorian asked.

Sera snorted. “Peachy. Coryphytits will have a time getting through the defenses, if nothing else. And Cullen will have a time getting back into his desk. I glued all his drawers shut.” She beamed, the pride dripping off of her.

“I don’t think he needs to get into his desk, so much as just get onto it.” Bull muttered.

Dorian gasped and slapped Bull on the chest. “No! You had details and you didn’t tell me!” 

“My room is only so far away…and the guards were trying to give them a respectful berth.” Bull winked at Elena.

She buried her face in her hands.

“Is that why the desk is all wonky on one side?” Sera said, grabbing one of the swords off the floor and parrying an invisible opponent.

Dorian gasped. “You trollop!” The world held as much affection as it did excitement.

Cold air rushed in again as Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine slipped in, Vivinne holding the door at bay and quietly closing it with a force spell. 

“The first battalion mages are in place and prepared for what may come. The rest are trying to get what sleep they can,” Vivienne informed the room, her head held high but her eyes a little drawn around the edges.

Elena nodded and swam in the rush of affection she felt for Dorian as he stirred his wine with his pinky and mouthed ‘trollop.’ He also looked tired and worn, a crease had developed between his brows after Leliana’s scout returned with news of the dawn and had yet to recede, but he knew her more than anyone. If they were to have their best advantage, she would need to be rested and if sleep wouldn’t come, she could at least be relaxed.

“I don’t know, Cassandra! It was in my drawer. We’ll have to go based on memory,” Cullen held the door to the Solas’ rotunda open for Cassandra. When he turned around, all eyes on were on him, and a bright pink blush rose from his neck to meet the wind whipped red of his cheeks. “Um, hello Inquisitor, everyone.” 

Elena chewed her lip, her eyes falling to the cracks in the stone floor.

Dorian coughed, a loud and conspicuous noise that sounded like it could’ve had a word or two hidden in between the racks. Bull slapped him heartily on the back and gave him a stern glare. “That's enough, Kadan.” Bull’s hand slid across Dorian’s back and rested on the edge of his chair.

“Was Solas still pouring over his books?” Elena asked Cassandra, mostly as a distraction when Cullen came to stand behind her, warming his cold armor by the fire, his fingers dancing lightly over her shoulder as it rested on the edge of her chair.

“Yes, I’m not sure there’s anything in those big, dusty books that will help at this point. But any port in a storm, I suppose,” Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the table, eyeing the half-empty pitcher of wine.

“Help yourself, it might make the dying a little easier,” Dorian muttered.

The crowd erupted in bitter arguments and chastisement at Dorian’s remark. Cassandra shook her finger at him as she quoted the Chant of Light; Josephine, Vivienne, and Leliana argued among themselves, gesturing in his direction on occasion; Elena felt Cullen’s hand gently squeeze her shoulder as he mumbled, “Maker preserve me.” Blackwall, Sera, and Bull all looked halfway between amusement and agreement, Blackwall going as far as to pull the pitcher toward himself and pour another goblet of drink.

“Bitter and bumbling; blaming the witch for borrowed words.” Cole’s ghostly form blinked into appearance, sitting cross-legged on the floor, the centerpiece between their circle of chairs.

“Vishante Kafas!” Dorian screeched, one hand to his chest while the other held his goblet at arm’s length to prevent splashing.

“When did you get here, demon?” Vivienne asked, her grey eyes chilled to match the color of the coming Wintermarch dawn. 

“I have been here since the beginning,” Cole smiled at her, his response indicative that he either didn’t recognize Vivienne’s distaste for him or chose to ignore it. “Since Elena’s thought called out such happiness and compassion in the Fade.”

For a brief moment, Elena thought he’d stop there and breathed a hefty sight of relief. 

But Cole continued, “Rough and reckless, heavenly and heated, it wasn’t what you came for, but it’s what you wanted.” His eyes cleared and he turned his piercing gaze on Cullen. “Is that why your desk is so big?”

“Five sovereigns says that’s not the only thing thats bi—Ow!” Dorian rubbed the back of his head and glared at Cassandra who feigned a great and sudden interest in her nails.

“Careful now, Seeker, we’ve only got one of him,” Varric smirked as he used his back to push the door the undercroft closed, his arms weighed down with a towering stack of bolts for his crossbow.

“Good to see you haven’t abandoned us, Varric,” Cassandra said, her mouth turned down at the edges but her eyes sparkled with what mirth could be mustered on the eve of battle.

“And leave you to your doom? Never. Besides, who’s going to write about how all this ends if I’m not here?”

The door to Solas’ rotunda swings open and hits the wall with the deafening smack. “I’ve got it! Inquisitor!” The mage, his lips drawn down in a serious frown and dark circles under his eyes, scurried over to Elena, bumping into Blackwall and spilling Sera’s drink along the way.

“Arsebucket.”

He practically shoved the tome into her face and pointed at the relevant passage. “Read.”

A hushed silence fell around the group as Elena tried to read the script as quickly as possible. After she read it through a third time, she said, “It could work.”

“It will work!” Solas insisted.

“Cullen,” Elena turned around in her seat and grasped the Commander’s hands, her head tilted back to look him squarely in the eyes. “Gather your troops, I believe I have a speech to make.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is in regards to the speech the Inquisitor gives.


End file.
